


To Weave a Crown of Stars For You

by Araminthe_Ispwitch



Category: Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Healing, M/M, Redemption, i do ninja edits, this is honestly just me suddenly getting a feverish desire to see Logan and his future, will add other characters on the list later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araminthe_Ispwitch/pseuds/Araminthe_Ispwitch
Summary: When Logan was young, someone once told him that he was like a star in the night sky. A fitting analogy considering that after Aurora, he had practically “died” and burned everyone in his path, prompting his sister to end him.But she didn’t—and now Logan met Nick.Nick was the nanny of the little boy Logan’s sister had adopted. That was all he was ever supposed to be.But he wasn’t.





	To Weave a Crown of Stars For You

**Author's Note:**

> **If you’re a reader of my other works…** you should probably be used to my bouts of becoming gripped with fanfic fever and doling out _another_ story before releasing a new chapter of my previous fics. Because really… this isn’t new... I am still very sorry… orz
> 
>  **If you’re not a regular reader, though, well…** welcome to my new hell, I guess???
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, guys, listen: two weeks ago, I suddenly missed the world of Fable 3 and replayed it for the _third_ time—even though I am supposed to be _focusing on other shit_ —and then I wondered about any new fanfics because it’s been so long since I last read one. I realized that all these years, I never fully appreciated Logan and his potential with an original character in a ship—I kinda got side-tracked by all the Reaver content—so I went to search for any romance stories for him.
> 
> I found some, but I think I set the bar too high, so they’ve disappointed me and now I’ve written my own fic.
> 
> Somebody shoot me.
> 
> So anyways, what am I trying to say?
> 
> I’m saying that I just wrote the fucking start of a long fanfic about Logan and my own fucking character for a barely-fucking-alive fandom just because a few fanfics fucking left me wanting for _more_.
> 
> Again—somebody shoot me.
> 
>  
> 
> **Important Stuff to Note:**
> 
> 1) I am _literally_ writing this for myself. I honestly don’t expect many reviews on this considering the state of the fandom. So don’t hope for fast chapter updates. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life anymore, but I knew I had to get this out of my system, otherwise I won’t start functioning properly again. -.-
> 
> 2) This has got to be the _very first time_ I am actually writing and releasing a fanfic on me shipping a canon character with _my original_ character as the main pairing—my original MALE character. I have _never_ done this before—if only because I usually find another canon character to ship the first canon character with, and because I usually just daydream about my OC ship and never actually get down to _write_ it. But for some annoying reason, I did it for Logan—and you know what? Fuck it, the man deserves more fanfics for him. He has a good number of straight romances written for him—now it’s time for me to contribute to the gay side. Hopefully, I can do it right.
> 
> 3) This is set just after the Hero of Brightwall’s coronation and will encompass the events of the year leading up to the attack and probably some more. This is very important, plot-wise.
> 
> 4) Unlike most of the Logan x OC fics in the archive, I am writing Logan’s POV first—and you’ll see why. Hope I do Logan some justice.
> 
> 5) I’ve had to tweak some things in the world of Albion for it to be realistic, like the stairs to the second floor of the houses being _inside_ the house itself _for once_. 
> 
>    
>  **Cross-posted in:** [FFNet](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12729319/1/To-Weave-a-Crown-of-Stars-For-You)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don’t own Fable 3, but you know what? I wish I did. Fuck you, Lionhead Studios. You wasted a great opportunity writing a tragic sibling relationship, and the development and redemption of a Machiavellian antagonist. Here’s me trying to fix your shit—for _free_.

When the iced door finally gave in to the fourth shove of the man’s shoulder, he had to brace out his arms to cushion his fall on the wooden floor. The exhaustion from the day’s hunt was really getting to him now—he couldn’t even stop his stumble. But he was inside the warm house now and that was all that mattered. Grunting against the pain on his shoulder, on his arms, and on his side, the man gingerly stood up before shutting the door close. The winds were starting to pick up and a storm was probably on its way here. He’d better get to work before then.

Setting down his load and taking off his winter boots by the door, he strode to the hearth with its dying embers and took the poker to get another large blaze going. It took a few more moments, but the embers soon ate the newly-stocked wood, and a cheery fire crackled throughout the living room of the lodge. Satisfied, the man took off his hat, face mask, and gloves, dusting away the fallen snow on it, and set about bringing back warmth into his fingers. When he finally felt more like a warm-blooded person rather than a frozen statue, he straightened up for his next task—but not without feeling a sharp pain on his side.

Logan hissed, gently touching the edge of the cut on his thick coat. The wound needed proper tending immediately. He’ll have to mend his coat later, too. He hadn’t expected it to rip that easily. As he ambled to collect his discarded items by the entrance, he idly looked around the large house and was reminded of the first day he finally came to visit this frigid place again. It had been four years since he last stepped foot inside his father’s hunting lodge—and to think that all it would take for him to visit was his own dethronement.

Five days ago, Logan’s younger sister Scarlet had finally stormed Bowerstone Castle and wrested control of Albion out of his incapable hands. To be fair, Logan had done all he could to prepare their kingdom for the imminent attack of the darkness. Four long years of choosing more profitable options for the country and forcing himself to ignore the cries of his people, remembering the ultimate goal of them surviving through it all—four long years of Logan wishing for the death he deserved but staying alive for his kingdom. But in the end, he had not only failed to secure even a _quarter_ of the necessary funds for a proper army, but he had also made himself a great enemy to his people in the process.

So when Scarlet had walked towards that throne with the crown on her head for the very first time, Logan had expected nothing less than an execution. He just wanted to rest already.

He ultimately gave a defense of his actions, yes—but it wasn’t to save face. It was all to remind his sister that the role of a monarch is a difficult one. She may have won the hearts of the people on her road to overthrow him, but it was highly possible that she’ll end up just like Logan and be forced to break those hearts for their safety. Logan, for one, didn’t want her to—not after seeing Albion so _alive_ after so long. Yet whatever her decision was on his fate, he was glad to finally stop being king.

So imagine his shock and internal relief when she chose to spare him.

Logan took the bundle of his kill for today to the kitchen, putting it inside a crate full of freshly-shoveled snow. It’s been a while since he last hunted so the number of rabbits he nabbed was a measly three, but it was amazing enough that he even managed to kill one all by himself. Logan had been expecting the long-forgotten landscape to work against him this morning, but fortunately, it wasn’t _that_ forgotten. His skill with the rifle still seemed to be with him, as well. But as he feared, he couldn’t last long in the extreme cold after years of living away within Bowerstone Castle, and so he’d been forced to hunt nearby and only for a few hours. The added trouble with an unseen sharp rock at one point had finally forced him to retreat to the lodge.

_If Ray was still here, I probably wouldn’t have made that stupid mistake._

Logan shook his head clear and sealed the icebox shut tight. His dog was long gone and that was that.

Eager to distract himself from the memories, he set aside all his other belongings—the proper preservation of his catch will have to wait. He can feel his wound sharply stinging again, but he wasn’t sure if it was still bleeding. He had wasted enough time as it is. Taking out the medical supplies from one of the cabinets and quickly retrieving a pail of warm water from the lodge’s private hot springs in the back, Logan gently took off his winter coat and shirt, taking care not to disturb the large cut on the side of his stomach. He hadn’t bothered covering it up, afraid the cold temperature would seal whatever gauze he used to the wound and further complicate his treatment of it. Sitting himself by the firelight, he inspected the cut, noting that it wasn’t too deep, as he suspected. But even though it was no longer bleeding, he still has to clean it and properly bandage himself. It wouldn’t do to contract an infection way out here, in the middle of a frozen mountain.

If Logan got himself in any trouble, nobody but Scarlet would be willing to help—and he had troubled his sister enough already. That’s why he was here, all alone. A hated tyrant finally overthrown was supposed to be banished, if not executed. But since the new queen did neither of those, Logan opted to exile himself without any further prompting necessary.

_How ironic would it be to die here without an audience, eh, old sod?_

Scarlet was probably pissed that he merely left her a note. But she has a whole kingdom to take care of now. She can’t just drop whatever she’s doing to come to a pathetic man’s aid. And while Logan may be one, he wasn’t about to keel over like one, too—not until Albion survived the darkness to come.

Dipping a fresh rag in the pail, he squeezed out the excess warm water and proceeded to carefully wipe the cut clean, gritting his teeth and wincing whenever the rag hit a particularly bad spot. Though when the door suddenly opened and a gust of cold wind passed through, he almost jolted out of his seat and tore his wound even further.

“What the _bloody—_ ”

Logan stared wide-eyed at the entrance, hands frozen in action.

The nanny of Scarlet’s adopted son was standing right there, staring back in surprise.

The man was properly clothed for the harsh weather outside and was holding the door opened as if he had been about to casually stroll inside Logan’s new home without any permission whatsoever. And apparently, as far as Logan could tell of his blinking expression, that _was_ what the intruder had been about to do.

The man—Nick, Scarlet had proudly informed him—opened his mouth, about to say something, before closing it and opening it again. He finally squinted at Logan.

“… Your Highness?”

Logan frowned, feeling irritation bubble up at the other’s cautious tone. He has a wound to tend to, dammit. “Yes?” he snapped impatiently. _Can’t you see I’m busy? Why didn’t you knock, anyway? What are you doing here?_ He didn’t mean to—he had already promised himself that he’d strive to be nicer to others considering his past crimes—but he really came all this way just to be alone. So if this sudden visitor’s plan was to just bother him, then Logan would rather remind the other man of his mercurial temperament as a tyrant.

He didn’t want to, though, especially with what happened between the two of them last time.

“Ah,” Nick croaked out in polite shock, still staring—not even bothered by Logan’s tone. “Sorry, I just… That’s a good look on you.”

It was then that Logan remembered he had actually shaved off his small beard yesterday and had stopped combing his hair back. He had looked at himself in the mirror the first day back here and decided that he was sick of seeing the ridiculous man before him. Though he had just come from an exhausting excursion and probably looked like he’d been blown over by a blizzard, so the passable work he’d done on himself has probably been erased. But the other man didn’t display any signs of aversion—in fact, he was still staring pointedly at Logan.

“… Thank you,” offered Logan, surprised and not sure what else to say. It’s been a while since someone’s complimented him.

Nick continued staring. “You chose the lodge,” he remarked after a moment.

Logan blinked back in response. What?

Nick held up a finger. “Right. Of course you would. Sorry—excuse me for a moment, would you?”

Then he shut the door close.

A beat later, three knocks resounded from the wood outside.

Logan stared at the door, before slowly calling out. “Who is it?”

The muffled reply was even stranger than he expected.

_“Um, yes. This is Nick from the castle? I’m pretty sure you remember me... Anyways, I’m sorry to intrude but, uh, I forgot an important bag upstairs in one of the rooms during the move and I was hoping to get it back. I won’t take too much of your time. I just need to fetch it, if that’s alright with you?”_

Logan knew that the man and Scarlet’s son had lived here prior to Scarlet’s coronation. After all, _he_ was the one who arranged it.

When Scarlet, Walter, and Jasper left, he knew it was a matter of time before Scarlet came to confront him. But Logan never truly saw her as an enemy—she was more of another hope for the future of Albion who was merely trying to save the hearts of everyone Logan had to hurt. So despite what his cruel supporters may think, when Scarlet finally gained the trust of the people in Mistpeak Valley, Logan anonymously gave his sister the deed to their family’s Mistpeak mountain lodge. She needed it more than he did, anyway.

Then, when Logan’s spies had reported of her adopting a child from the Bowerstone Orphanage, he had immediately thought ill of her decision—but in the end, decided it was best to push her in the right direction. What right did _he_ have in dictating her life now, after all? So just like how he notified the caretaker of the lodge of the change in ownership, Logan also soon told them of the arrival of Scarlet’s child to help prepare her and her new family. Anybody else would think it strange of the tyrant king, but Logan thought of it as his last gift to his little sister before everything truly fell apart.

He might as well contribute something to the welfare of his adopted nephew. It wouldn’t make up for all the wrongs he’d committed, but at least he could do right by one child’s future.

So when Logan finally arrived at the abandoned lodge after his public trial, it hadn’t been surprising to see a few remnants of the past tenants’ presence here—a bit of childish drawing on the wallpaper hinting at his nephew’s potential artistic talent, worn indents on the couch reminiscent of late nights by the fire, wax candles half-melted from sleepless nights when a storm’s too rough.

Nick was correct—there _was_ a bag upstairs in the master bedroom that he had found on his inspection of the place. Logan had rifled through it and found knick-knacks and personal-looking letters, and concluded that it belonged to the nanny. He figured someone would come by to fetch it for him soon enough, so he let the bag stay where it was.

But he didn’t think it’d be _this_ soon. Did the man actually travel all the way here just to retrieve it? He’d just moved into the castle a few days ago—he didn’t have to go through all that trouble. With how everyone’s praising the new queen, surely someone wouldn’t have minded doing an errand for the nanny?

_“Um, Your Highness…?”_

Logan startled out of his thoughts, remembering that the other man was still outside—in the cold, no less. “Ah—yes. Erm… Do come in.” Logan cleared his throat, feeling a bit silly. He only needed to get the bag. That was all. Logan would’ve fetched it for him—he wasn’t some high and mighty noble, after all—but he was currently preoccupied at the moment.

But he’s sure the man can go get it himself.

_Four years cooped up in the damn castle and I practically lose all my social manners. I’m so sorry, Mother._

Nick promptly opened the door and closed it behind him, taking off his hood. “Thank you, sir. I won’t be long. Oh, no, no! Please, just sit! I am perfectly capable of fetching it. I’m just sorry for the intrusion on such short notice. But also, do you need help with that?”

Logan blinked at him again, surprised at the quick change of subject amidst Nick’s fast words. Absentmindedly, he looked down at the obvious wound he had that Nick was now staring at, and what he was currently doing with his hands. He’d been about to offer the man something to drink, but well… Logan opened his mouth—and closed it.

“No… it’s fine,” he eventually answered. The offer of help was nice, but it was embarrassing enough to be caught in such a vulnerable position. “… You should probably hurry. A storm’s coming,” he informed him.

That managed to snap Nick out of his hard staring. “Oh, right. Of course. If you’ll excuse me, then.” With a slight bow, the man tapped snow off his boots by the door before finally disappearing up the flight of stairs to the second landing of the house.

Logan released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Then he felt uncanny warmth creep up his skin when he realized that he was actually half-naked right now. _Maybe that’s what the staring was for._ Logan shook his head and went back to cleaning his cut. His unexpected visitor was just concerned, is all. According to Scarlet, he was a notorious mother hen. And by notorious, Logan discovered she meant the aggressive kind.

Nick was right—Logan _did_ remember him. He slapped the former king in front of a hundred people, after all.

 

* * *

 

Logan stood in front of Scarlet, a hundred Albion citizens clamoring angrily behind him.

“Murderer!”

“Let him get what he deserves!”

“He tormented us long enough!”

Logan did nothing to silence them. He said his piece. Now it was time for Scarlet to choose.

His eyes remained riveted on the new monarch on the throne, who was quietly contemplating the sight of him. Heaven knows what Logan looked like now. His valet had always insisted on him looking his best, even in the potential face of a firing squad. But the former king knew how brutal those four years had been to him—nothing but nightmares and choking darkness in the silence of the night. Logan was sure his sister was now truly looking at him for the very first time. But what could she be seeing? Was she finally noticing the cracks of pressure on him that he had done his best to hide for the good of the kingdom?

_This is what you may gain if you turn out as unprepared as I was on our dark future, little sister._

Clothed in a regal suit similar to Logan’s, Scarlet sat hunched, clutching her hands as she rested her elbows on her knees. The crown looked good on her—as if it had been _made_ for her. It was strange considering her gender, but Logan felt like he was looking at their father. He couldn’t even find it in himself to feel jealous. What used to be the symbol of his birthright that he had always been waiting for was now only a piece of accessory he’s come to realize had never actually fit him at all. Logan could only hope it didn’t feel as heavy for Scarlet. She may be a Hero, but she was still so young and deserved a good life free from suffering.

Alongside her on the dais were her generals of the revolution. Page of the Resistance Movement, Captain Ben Finn, Sabine of the Dwellers, and Kalin of Aurora—all of them wanted justice upon his head, except Page who, while admitting that Logan _did_ condemn Albion, thinks that his death will solve nothing and will only bring them down to the same level as him. Logan couldn’t fault them, either—he knew what he’d done. But he had to at least explain to Scarlet why all his actions had been necessary.

Now that he had, though, he felt like a fool. Who was he kidding? Work together with his sister? Deep inside, he was actually wishing for death. He had already instructed his men before the attack on Bowerstone began—if he ever died, they were to switch their allegiance to Scarlet’s side no matter what. So the offer of more soldiers on her army wasn’t really a good incentive to keep him around. Even if Scarlet didn’t know about this arrangement, she could probably convince his men to work for her, anyway. Albion didn’t need him around anymore—and Scarlet can take on twice more of what he can accomplish.

Hell, she managed to unite all of Albion to join her.

No… He wasn’t asking for forgiveness at all. What Logan was really asking of Scarlet was a sign that he hadn’t completely failed as her big brother. That those four years of emotional distance between them hadn’t _truly_ severed the ties of family. That Father and Mother had done right by him when they left Scarlet in Logan’s care.

But then Logan remembered the day his sister left the castle—and he realized with cold resignation that perhaps even a once-happy family such as theirs could end up broken beyond repair.

“You have the power over life and death, sister,” he said quietly once more—one last time—amidst the loud roar of the audience. “Now choose.”

Walter stood to the side and Logan saw him close his eyes. The old knight had looked worn when he gave his defense to Scarlet and finally revealed to her about The Crawler’s imminent attack on Albion. Logan knew he had gone with his sister to Aurora just before the revolution broke out. The two both understood what was now at stake. _Did you see it, old friend? Did it hurt you?_

But Logan can only hope Walter will stay strong for Scarlet until the end—because Logan sure as hell wasn’t going to be there.

Scarlet closed her eyes, seeming to have come to a decision.

Logan did the same, awaiting judgment.

The cacophony of anger all around them was nothing compared to the wild beating of his heart.

“This is not the time for revenge. We need your help, Logan.”

Logan’s eyes shot wide open and his head snapped up to stare at his sister.

“The queen has made her decision! Logan’s life will be spared!” announced Walter more clearly.

The answering cry of the audience grew more livid—now the guards were trying to push them back.  

Logan stared in incredulity at Scarlet—fiery, headstrong Scarlet who had sworn she would never forgive him for executing both her lover and three innocent factory workers from Industrial. His gaze slowly fell to the carpeted floor, and despite all odds, he felt himself exhale a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and smile in surprised relief.

He had expected nothing less than an execution. But in truth, he had been afraid.

Had Scarlet known?

He saw her walk towards him, practically ignoring the disgruntled reaction of some of her generals and loyal subjects on her decision, and Logan knew he had to say _something_. He already made a mess of things for years—it was time he started making amends. He nodded decisively at her and his expression turned grim. “I know you will never forgive me for the things I’ve done. You told me so once, remember?”

Scarlet sighed quietly, coming to a stop before him. “Of course I do,” she replied sadly.

Logan nodded again. It wasn’t forgiveness he was looking for. He knew he didn’t deserve it. “But what matters now is that we defend our land,” he said instead. He gestured to the large hall and all inside it. “The castle is yours, and so is the throne. I’m glad to be rid of them.”

Gods, that felt good to admit. Logan couldn’t help laughing a bit sardonically on the last words, suddenly feeling free as a bird. He knew a lot of people thought he became tyrant out of lust for power. What they didn’t know was that every night, he kept wondering what it would be like to just leave Albion behind and start a new life.

Scarlet nodded at him, understanding what he meant.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty. May I?”

Logan turned to watch as a man, a bit shorter than him and wearing simple but formal clothes, approached them with a little boy trailing after him. The child, dark-skinned but curiously light-haired, looked up at Logan and peeked from behind the man’s legs. Was this Scarlet’s adopted son?

“Yes, of course, Nick,” answered Scarlet, stepping aside to let the man face Logan as she was handed the little boy. Secured in her arms, the child canted his head, staring at Logan with large gray eyes. What an interesting color. He seemed to be a shy little thing, though, as he hugged his mother close. When Logan’s spies had told him of Scarlet’s decision in Bowerstone Orphanage, he had imagined the boy she chose to be an energetic one, just like her.

“Right. First of all,” said the man named Nick to him, and Logan tore his gaze away from the beguiling boy.

Suddenly, Nick slapped him.

The whole time they were here in the throne room, the audience of Logan’s trial had been continuously shouting and yelling their displeasure on his existence, and the din had only grown into a roar when Scarlet chose to spare him. But the moment the sharp sound of skin hitting skin resounded in the room, abruptly all noise ceased.

Logan slowly turned his head to face the man again, shocked more at the sudden attack than the audacity of it all. The stinging pain on his cheek hardly stopped him from faintly noticing that everyone was now staring wide-eyed at the two of them _. What, you were waiting for my execution but you didn’t expect_ this _?_

Nick pointed a finger at him with the hand he used. “That’s for not telling others about your problem.”

What?

The man gestured to Scarlet behind him. “You had all the loyal subjects you could ever have, and the unwavering trust of a loving sister and close family friends. But you decided to keep it all to yourself instead.” Nick smiled tightly at him. “Ever thought how different things would’ve been like if you _hadn’t_ shouldered the burden alone?”

Logan had been _waiting_ for this lecture from Scarlet—not from someone he hardly knew.

And now that he noticed it, Scarlet didn’t look too surprised at this turn of events. In fact, she was trying not to smile.

“Secondly…” Nick stepped near him—and there it was again. The sound of a sharp smack echoed in the room, and Logan reached for his other stinging cheek. Did he—Did he just slap him _backhandedly?_

Everyone was still deathly silent, strangely transfixed at the sight of a mere citizen—not of lower-class but hardly upper-class—berating the former tyrant of Albion.

“That’s for choosing Reaver,” explained Nick with a dour expression. “Because really? Out of all the talented people you could choose in this blasted kingdom, you decided on that sad sack of balls?”

“Yeah!” agreed a voice from the back furiously.

But before anyone else could join in, Nick snapped his head forward and narrowed his eyes. “Shut it.”

The room remained silent.

Logan stared at the other man, brows furrowing slightly. The words had been uttered lowly. No shout, no roar—it was a command, plain and simple. And yet that was what unnerved Logan: his _sister_ was supposed to be the monarch in the room but instead, this man in unassuming garb before him was the one with the aura and tone of someone not to be crossed.

Who was he?

“Thirdly.”

Logan had been too busy staring, and so he hadn’t seen it coming.

The audience gasped and some even screamed when Logan hit the floor with a loud thud. But that was nothing compared to the blooming pain on his left jaw. Logan groaned as he clutched the area— _Gods, I think I might have neck cramps after this_ —and he looked up at the man standing over him. He may be shorter, but he sure packs a wallop. Was it just him or was the man’s expression actually turning blacker and blacker with every point he had to make?

“That’s for not asking for help,” he gritted out, tightening the raised fist he used.

He waited until Logan pushed himself into a sitting position on the floor before continuing heatedly. “Four years. You had _four years_ to reach out to someone—the queen, Sir Walter, _your bloody valet!_ You may not have found it easy to share your secret, Logan, but eventually, you could’ve told someone about your problem and _ask for help_. But no… Your stupid pride had to come first before the country!”

In the oppressive silence of the throne room, Logan itched to defend himself. It was the same itch from when Scarlet’s allies tried to convince her of killing him. But he saw the holy fury in Nick’s eyes—and decided that he was no more entitled to give out excuses than he was entitled to think he could ever escape the wrath of an ordinary citizen. Was he a factory worker? Did he have family or friends who had suffered because of him? But it was strange. He wasn’t telling Logan about the crimes Logan committed to him. He was…

He was telling him how much trouble he’s caused others.

Logan let his eyes wander to Scarlet—and he found her looking stonily at him. _This is another kind of betrayal I’ve given her_ , he thought bitterly. Her son was still staring fixedly at him, and all of a sudden, Logan felt an enormous amount of shame course through him.

“Stop that stupid face, will you?”

Logan jolted and stared back up at Nick with his narrowing eyes. The man looked like an intimidating shadow with the way the light from the stained glass windows glowed behind him. “You may not be king anymore, but you’re _still_ a prince of Albion. You have a duty to your people—and you’ve been given a second chance!” Then, the man pinned him with a piercing stare as he hissed the next words to him. “Her Majesty needs you to live. You’re not useful to the kingdom if you’re dead, right? You want to be useful, right?”

He suddenly squatted in front of Logan. “So last but not the least…”

Logan braced himself, hoping it wouldn’t hurt as much as the first three. He was already bleeding from all the truthful accusations.

Nick reached out and firmly pinched his left cheek—and pulled.

Logan _finally_ yelped in pain.

“That’s for making your little sister cry,” he said softly. “Honestly, what would your parents say if they were still here, you silly boy?”

The pain was suddenly forgotten. Logan’s mind went blank. He stared at him mutely—and he still couldn’t stop staring, even after the man patted his cheek and got up with a little hop.

“Well! That’s that. Thank you, Your Majesty. Sorry for the trouble,” Nick said to Scarlet with a deep bow, as if he had only swept the floors and hadn’t slapped her predecessor to it.

Scarlet, for her part, merely smiled graciously at him—not even bothered by the sudden change in behavior. “Think nothing of it.”

“Right. Come along now, Adnan,” he chirped, taking the little boy from his mother and setting him down to take his hand. “Remember: your Uncle Logan is an idiot and doesn’t deserve any crumb of my snowberry pie until he cleans up his act.”

When they passed by him, Adnan looked back to Logan as he was pulled away by Nick. “Bye-bye,” he said meekly, waving a chubby hand at him.

“Also, don’t do what I did, Adie,” said Nick as an afterthought. A catatonic Logan watched as the little boy continued waving at him, until finally, the doors of the throne room closed and hid both the angelic child and the man with the commanding aura from everyone. The resounding thud of the closed doors highlighted the awed silence in the room.

“Wow,” chimed Walter unsurely, still staring at the doors. “I know you said he was a feisty one, Your Majesty, but… wow.”

“You should’ve brought him at the Battle of Bowerstone,” quipped Ben Finn in equal wonder, agreeing.

And that finally snapped everyone out of their stupefaction.

Scarlet approached Logan again as everyone chattered in hushed voices around them, seemingly having forgotten their anger at Logan’s canceled execution. “ _Now_ I forgive you,” she said with a smirk, putting her hands on her hips.

The sudden dissipation of the awkward silence made Logan flinch. He blinked, tore his dazed gaze away from the doors, and stared up at her, still nursing his cheek. “Your… husband, I presume?” he cautiously asked with a curious brow. There _had_ been those little rumors of her finally finding a spouse. He just couldn’t think of anyone else so furious on her behalf who she would allow to give Logan the lecture he needed.

But Scarlet’s smirk only grew, and she laughed as she extended a hand and hauled Logan up to his feet.

“My nanny,” she proudly corrected him.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, when all that Logan knew of The Crawler had finally been spilled to the queen’s court, and the queen’s private victory party had eventually dwindled to an intimate sibling heart-to-heart talk that should’ve happened ages ago, Scarlet told him of the nanny she had most fortunately secured for her beloved son Adnan.

That when she first visited her child in their new home, she had met Nick, the caretaker of Hunter’s Lodge—the royal family’s mountain estate that Logan had secretly given to her when she won over Mistpeak Valley’s support. Here, Scarlet gave Logan a knowing look and he finally admitted that he _did_ arrange the whole thing with the lodge.

According to her story, when the nanny the orphanage had hired for her bailed out of going all the way to the treacherous Mistpeak Mountain, Scarlet had decided to offer Nick the position because of his past experiences with the place and his patience with her timid son. And over the course of a month—the time it took Scarlet to gather allies for the revolution—Nick came to be Scarlet’s closest confidante who wasn’t a part of the impending war.

It was only fitting that both nanny and child were moved to the castle, then—so that Adnan can be better watched over, and so that Nick can continue to support his employer and friend much more efficiently.

“He said I made you cry,” Logan had muttered that night—or early morning—as he stared into the crackling fire with a glass of whiskey on one hand.

“I broke down in front of him one night after I had nightmares,” admitted Scarlet softly, downing her glass. She suddenly chuckled. “He promised to give you an earful about it. A trip to the garden ponds at night in the winter, if you did it again.”

Logan had only sipped his whiskey in response. He didn’t know how to explain to his sister that when her nanny friend had quietly scolded him for that, he had suddenly looked so… sad.

As it turned out, Nick was actually the current caretaker assigned to his father’s hunting lodge. _He_ was actually the one Logan had personally written to on two occasions—one, to inform him that the lodge was now his sister’s; and two, to inform him that a family was going to be living there from now on, under her sister’s instructions. Logan had never met the latest caretaker there because of what happened in Aurora and afterwards, so he only used his authority as king and hoped the servant stationed there would follow what he wrote and prepare the lodge for Scarlet. To think that he went beyond his duty and actually supported her all the way—if the nanny hadn’t earned Logan’s respect in the throne room by then, he finally did that night.

But even after several days have passed, Logan still couldn’t forget what happened in his trial.

Logan hissed sharply once more, letting the sting of the cut subside before continuing on with his cleaning. It was a bit hard trying to concentrate when he knew that the man who had publicly lectured him without a shred of shame was just upstairs in his room. Technically, it had been _his_ room before, but Logan didn’t want to think too much about that.

He couldn’t help constantly going over the other’s words for him that day, though.

Anybody else would just think that Nick gave a wonderful lecture on Logan’s flaws. But there was something about the way he had worded things that really bothered the former king. His overall tone had been heated—but it hadn’t been angry. Scarlet had said it to him, as well.

 

_“Oh, I don’t think he’s angry at you, Logan. I think he’s… disappointed.”_

 

And that was strange. You don’t usually find people disappointed at their tyrant—because they were too busy feeling angry.

The more Logan had repeated the man’s words, though, the more he realized that they weren’t really about what he did wrong to Albion—they were _how_ he came to do wrong. Nick had listed all the simple things he could’ve done to prevent himself from going down the path he had taken—from his inability to burden others with his duty to his great pride in taking all the responsibilities as a king. When Logan finally slept in the lodge that very first night, he realized that it all boiled down to his inherent flaw as his father’s heir and his sister’s older brother: he had grown up too independent and withdrawn from others, used to bearing the load—just like how Father had taught him of kings being the servants of their people.

 _I’ve done too much of it_ , Logan concluded, sighing tiredly.

Descending steps on the stairs made him perk up and he soon saw the man he’s been mulling on for the past few days emerge out into the living room. Logan frowned and decided to himself that he was going to find a hobby later and stop remembering the throne room incident. It’s probably not healthy to fixate on something like that.

“Found it,” declared Nick, proudly showing the medium-sized bag full of his personal belongings.

“How did you even leave it behind?” asked Logan curiously. It had only been at the foot of the bed.

Nick chuckled and scratched his cheek. “Well, I _was_ supposed to put it with the others in the carriage, but I think something had distracted me by then and I forgot. I only remembered when I was looking for a photograph."

Logan only hummed and eyed the bag one last time. He had been mightily curious when he first realized who the owner of all the things in there was—but he had managed to control himself and hadn’t snooped around. That would be in bad taste, even as an exiled king.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t need help?”

Logan looked back at Nick and found him frowning slightly at his wound. He was done cleaning and was ready to patch it up. Yet despite the man’s last encounter with him, he still found the courage to want to help. No wonder his little sister likes him so much.

Eyeing Nick, Logan gave a small smile in amusement at the other’s concern. “Yes, I’m fine,” he reassured him once more as he opened the box of medical supplies. “I just need to—”

He paused. There were no potions amidst the supplies.     

“What is it?” asked Nick almost instantly when Logan frowned at the box.

“… I’m out of potions,” admitted the former king with growing dread. _Dammit, now how am I supposed to heal this cut?_ Logan grimaced when it started throbbing once more. It may not be deep, but if he didn’t heal this, it was going to be an irritation whenever he moves around. It didn’t help that wounds heal slower in the cold.

“Oh… crap. That’s… That’s my bad…”

Logan turned to Nick, who was now looking quite guilty at him. “I was supposed to restock that after using the last one a few days ago, but then your sister’s coronation happened and she immediately sent for us here, so I accidentally left the inventory incomplete… I’m really sorry about this!”

Logan was about to wave the apology away—the man didn’t mean for it to happen, anyway—but then Nick suddenly perked up and bent down near him. “Is this from the spring?” he asked, dipping a hand in the pail of water beside Logan.

“Ah… yes.”

He watched Nick purse his lips in thought. “It’s getting lukewarm… Okay, I know what to do.” The man straightened up and put his bag down on the low table. “Hopefully, I still have some here. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

Before Logan could say anything, he fled to the kitchen in a hurry, looking determined. Was this the mother hen side Scarlet was talking exasperatedly about? In a way, Logan couldn’t find the energy to complain. It felt nice letting someone take the lead in a situation for once. As long as he was staying here by the fire, where he was warm and toasty and not bleeding, he wasn’t about to grumble about the nanny poking his nose into Logan’s business.

Logan watched as snow started falling slowly outside the window. In a few hours, the storm will hit. He shouldn’t keep Nick here for long.

“Excuse me, coming through.”

In a flash, Nick came bearing a small pot of steaming water and hooking it over the flame in the hearth. Then, taking off his thick gloves, he undid the strings of a small pouch and dumped a few herbs into the water. “What is that?” asked Logan when he smelled something fragrant coming from the hearth.

“Chamomile flowers,” answered Nick, stirring the mixture and covering the pot.

“Aren’t they for sleeplessness?” said Logan, suddenly feeling relaxed from the strong scent. His butler had always given him chamomile tea before turning in whenever he stayed awake late for paperwork.

“Yes, but they’re also quite effective against wounds. Even aches,” supplied Nick, kneeling before Logan’s seat and taking the rag he had been using. “What exactly happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Wrong footing on a ledge,” admitted Logan with a grimace. “Thankfully, I managed to turn and avoided getting myself impaled.” He had been preoccupied with steering clear of a pack of wolves he had spotted in the distance that he hadn’t noticed where he was stepping.

Nick shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Thank the gods for that, otherwise Her Majesty will still be cross with you… Have you finished cleaning it?”

“Yes, it’s alright—”

“The whole area?”

“Well, not exactly—”

“Right.”

Logan had to physically stop Nick’s hands just to avoid turning red with shame. “Really. I’m _fine_. It’s alright.” He huffed in disbelief, feeling like laughing. It’s been ages since he last truly laughed. “Good gods, Scarlet wasn’t kidding when she said you’re a fussy caretaker.”

Nick only stared at him with steely eyes, looking obstinate. “Look, the flowers will take a few minutes. I need to do _something_ while I’m waiting, otherwise I’ll start cooking for you. Which do you prefer?”

For some reason, Logan’s traitorous mind answered that he cook for him. Thankfully, he silenced it pretty quickly. Damn chamomile. A storm’s coming. Nick _can’t_ stay here.

“… Alright.”

In the end, Logan reluctantly acquiesced, leaned back on his seat, and let the man start cleaning beyond his cut. Surely this wouldn’t take _too_ long. Nick worked quietly, and the only sounds with them were the low drone of the winds outside, the random clattering of the windows, the crackling of the flames, the hissing of the pot, and the sloshing of the lukewarm water. It was all peaceful and was starting to lull Logan to sleep. It didn’t help that his visitor was quite gentle with his ministrations and hardly tried chatting with him.

“Sorry. This is a bit awkward, isn’t it?”

Blinking wide-awake, Logan glanced at Nick before turning back to watch the snow falling. He felt his lips forming a small, lazy smirk. “It is now, since you pointed it out.”

“I just really can’t stay still and not do any work,” admitted Nick with a grimace.

Logan snorted inelegantly. “That makes two of us.” Before Aurora, he had often been scolded by Walter for working too much.

“And also…” Nick trailed off, before returning to carefully wiping the rag against Logan’s stomach. “We didn’t exactly part on good terms last time so…”

Logan didn’t know why, but he felt a current of electric shock run through him at the touch. He cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “Really? I don’t know about you, but I think Scarlet’s stories of you more than made up for it…”

Nick looked horrified for a moment—before he clicked his tongue, looking rather annoyed. “Well, there goes my reputation, then.”

“Thank you, though.”

The man stared up at him in confusion.

“For what you did at my trial,” clarified Logan, giving him a grateful smile. “I needed that.”

“You needed two slaps, a punch, and a pinch to the face…?” reminded Nick, trying not to sound amused as he avoided Logan’s gaze.

But Logan felt like joining in on the joke and gave a pensive answer. “Yes. I think I did.”

The other man finally couldn’t help grinning—if only for a split-second before he tried to school his expression again. His cheeks, though… Logan wasn’t sure if it was because of the firelight, but they seemed darker.

Suddenly, the pot started whistling, and Nick dropped the rag and hurried to check his mixture. Logan thought he heard the other mutter in relief.

Taking a slotted spoon, Nick carefully took out the wet flowers onto a small saucer, before going back to Logan’s side. “You should lie down on the couch. This will need to stay on your wound for a few minutes,” he told Logan.

Gingerly standing up, the former king did as he advised and went over to the couch a bit farther from the hearth. It wasn’t as warm there, but the whole house had already been dispelled of its chill when Logan had gone on his morning hunt. Logan carefully lied down on his side, cursing his height. The furniture wasn’t long enough for him, but at least it was wide enough. Kneeling beside him, Nick took a damp flower petal and started gently placing them on Logan’s cut.

“How long should I wait?” asked Logan when he hissed quietly for the third time.

“Just a few minutes,” promised Nick, focused with placing the petals.

“Sorry about all this,” Logan muttered, gesturing vaguely at him. “You’re supposed to be a guest…”

Nick waved a hand away before placing another petal. “Oh, pish-posh. This is nothing. Technically, you’re still a noble and I’m still a servant—but if it makes you feel better, you can think of this as my apology for abusing your face last time.”

Logan chuckled lowly. “That was well within your rights, I’m sure.”

The former king had been avoiding looking at the man a while ago because he had been in an awkward position, but here, where the chamomile started relaxing him again and the cushion felt nice, Logan couldn’t help gazing up at the other’s interesting countenance.

Nick the nanny wasn’t handsome by general standards. In fact, he was scruffy-looking—with his dark-brown locks wildly curling and those little dark pigmentations on his jaw. Now that Logan thought about it, Nick was probably the same age as him, if not a bit younger or older. Scarlet had mentioned that he had worked for their family for quite some time now. It _would_ explain as to why he was more disappointed in Logan than angry at him, as she said.

_For Avo’s sake, Logan, stop thinking about that._

When Logan tried to discern Nick’s exact eye color, the other man focused on his—and his lips quirked softly. “You can take a short nap, if you’d like,” suggested Nick quietly. “I’ll wake you up when it’s done.”

Logan shook his head languidly. “No, I can wait.” Did he look sleepy? He _did_ feel sluggish.

Nick straightened up and put the saucer away. “Rest, Your Highness. You’ll feel better.”

It was so strange to hear this man be so caring and thoughtful when days earlier, he was verbally lashing Logan to bits. But his tone was just so patient and understanding that Logan could argue no further. The scent of chamomile was just too strong for him. Hoping that Nick won’t let him rest for too long, he eventually drifted off into a dreamless nap.

 

* * *

 

When Logan next awoke, there was a different scent in the air. He gingerly got up from his position, surprised that a blanket was draped on him—and he immediately noticed that his reddening cut from before was now a pale pink of closed skin. He made a mental note to check if the castle gardens had any chamomile growing on them.

“Oh, good afternoon, Your Highness.”

Logan looked up to see Nick emerging from the kitchen. Afternoon? He quickly turned to the window—and saw that the snow was now falling quite heavily.

“How long was I out?” demanded Logan with a groan as he carefully got off the couch. It had been approaching midmorning when he stumbled through the lodge after his hunt.

Nick gave him a sheepish smile. “About an hour. Sorry. Didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

Logan’s brows shot up. “An _hour?_ ” This man was ridiculous. “The storm’s almost upon us! You didn’t have to wait for me. Now you’ll never get back home in time.”

But instead of looking worried, Nick just laughed. “Oh, that’s alright. I can make it down the mountain.”

“But the blizzard—”

“Don’t worry, Highness,” interrupted Nick with a wink. “Blizzards and I are old friends. I know my way around here. I used to be this place’s caretaker, after all. Surely Her Majesty had mentioned that to you?”

Logan could never forget that little tidbit. He’s still in awe that this man who brought him down on his trial was the same man who painstakingly took care of his father’s winter home for the past four years, according to Scarlet. Perhaps _that_ was why he had looked so sad when he had mentioned Logan’s parents. He _had_ been living here for quite some time, and his mother and father had some memorabilia of the family lying around.

“Still,” Logan pressed on. He couldn’t just let little Adnan’s nanny foolishly brave the elements outside. Scarlet will wring his neck.

But Nick wasn’t listening to him and was already putting on his gloves. “Hope you don’t mind, but I prepared something in the kitchen. You should drink some of the tea I made later before you sleep. Just warm it up by the hearth. Also, repeat what I did with the flowers tomorrow. There’s still some left by the medical supplies. No need to bandage it up.”

“Mr. Nick, I think—”

Nick paused and blinked at him—before laughing gaily once more. “It’s just Nick, Highness. Did you know that Scarlet tried to call me something similar? Honestly, you royalty… Well, technically, it’s Nicholas Evermoore, but really…” The man flashed him a debonair grin. “Just call me Nick.”

“Nick, you really shouldn’t,” urged Logan seriously as he wore his shirt again, trying not to think too much about how the other seemed roguish just now. “I’d really rather not be executed by letting you die in a snowstorm,” he said flatly.

“It’s not here yet,” reassured Nick, securing his hood on and picking up the forgotten bag he set aside. “So I’m pretty sure you’re safe from the firing squad.”

“Nicholas, _please_. You should wait it out.” Logan couldn’t help holding back the other man’s arm. He knew firsthand what a blizzard can do. Why was this ridiculous man just laughing it off? Hadn’t he lived here before?

But Nick only stared at him. Logan frowned, openly showing disapproval on his face. The man had been kind enough to make him a remedy for his wound. He couldn’t just let him walk into danger.

_He was there for Scarlet when I couldn’t._

Nick calmly stared back at his agitated face—then he reached out to Logan’s cheek and pinched it weakly. “It’s just Nick, you silly boy,” he whispered with a soft smile.

Before he fell asleep, Logan could remember pegging Nick as someone of around the same age as him. But somehow, at that moment in time, Nick the fussy nanny suddenly seemed both young _and_ old, with the way he looked up at Logan. The corners of his eyes crinkled and there was a strange light glinting in them.

The gloved fingers on his cheek felt more quelling than teasing.

“Right. You should eat your lunch. Drink the tea later, okay? See you around, Highness!”

Logan had only blinked—but he was already gone.

He cursed loudly and opened the closing door, worry spiking up. But amidst the steady falling of snow, there was no longer any sign of Nick. His eyes wildly searched beyond the patches of white, but even with the brightness of the afternoon, there was nothing else moving out there.

_How in the bloody…_

Logan slowly closed the door, frowning. Wait—lunch?

He turned to look at the kitchen—and surprisingly enough, there was a covered pot on the table. Lifting it open, Logan’s eyes widened as the delicious image of warm stew beckoned to him. _This_ was the different scent he had woken up to. He took a spoon and sipped.

 _Well, he ended up cooking for me, after all_ , chirped his unhelpful mind. Was this the rabbit he caught? Next to the pot was a pitcher, and when Logan checked it, he was equally surprised to find milk—but with a chamomile scent. Pouring a mugful, he tasted the concoction, and blinked. Milk, chamomile, and… honey?

And there was a note on the table.

 

_If you run out of flowers, go buy the poultice kind in the towns. Also, Scarlet will probably put you on nanny duty when you come back to the castle. And you WILL come back to the castle. She was pretty pissed with your note, apparently. Good luck!_

_\- N_

 

There was a doodle of chamomile flowers on one corner. Logan cursed again, taking another sip of the strange tea.

He looked out the window, where the snow was coming down even harder. But for some inexplicable reason, the worry wasn’t setting in anymore. He couldn’t even feel any dread at the thought of being summoned back to the castle by his sister. It was as if Nick was right—and that everything was going to be just fine.

Logan blamed the chamomile. He felt drugged. He should be out looking for Nick, making sure he didn’t get himself in trouble. But then Logan remembered the way the man had just smacked him around days ago, with hardly any fear in his eyes. And then he thought, with a chuckle at his ridiculousness, that blizzards probably avoid him.

Maybe it was the protective magic Father had set up around the lodge’s area that was actually reassuring him. Maybe Father had extended it to a route that Nick knew about. Whatever it was, though, Logan didn’t feel like himself—and for once, he didn’t think that was a bad thing.

He looked around the kitchen and realized with exasperation that all the counters had been wiped down. That nanny sure wasn’t lying about always wanting to work.  

 

* * *

 

Nick watched as the gray smoke from the distance never wavered in the face of the pelting snow. That was good. At least Logan will stay warm in the coming storm.

Trudging through the thick bank of snow, Nick thought back to when Logan was fast asleep, practically vulnerable to anything. Five days was a short amount of time, but Nick could already see the signs. He was starting to have a good pallor back on his skin, the dark circles under his eyes were starting to fade, and even his body was looking healthy. Nick even had to admit that the new look the man was sporting _really_ suited him with his road to recovery. It was as if he’d become younger by a few more years. Apparently, the knowledge of his powerful sister sitting on the throne of the kingdom was enough to let him relax, at least.

There were still night terrors, though—the haunted look in the former monarch’s eyes was still there. Nick knew it wouldn’t be easy to completely erase it, but he knew that with the proper situations—and the proper comfort food—he could gradually lessen it. All he required was for Logan to not be alone.

Easier said than done considering the man was naturally aloof, but Nick knew Scarlet was going to have her way soon, and Logan can never really escape his sister. Thank the gods for Adnan, too—he was sure the little boy can also aid in healing his uncle’s broken soul. Now he only had to wait for the man to drop by the castle.

Nick sighed, eyeing his errant bag. He hadn’t been expecting to spend time with Logan again—alone, no less—but he was glad. Nick wasn’t about to let him fall again.

Beneath his glove, his fingers twitched and he had to shake his hand to dispel the searing feeling coursing through them. The painful effects were already starting to manifest, but it had been necessary to make Logan let go of him. Most of Albion thinks the queen’s brother is heartless, but Nick knew better. He would’ve demanded Nick stay the night if the weather worsened—and as much as Nick would’ve appreciate the kind offer, he just didn’t have the time today.

Reaching a good spot, Nick looked out the snowing scenery in the distance and contemplated the approaching storm. He still had lots of errands to run. He’d best hurry before nightfall.

Closing his eyes, he thought of Millfields.

It was good that the snow was coming down fast now, because someone might’ve notice that a certain set of tracks had suddenly stopped in the middle of the road altogether.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. I wrote that. Can somebody shoot me now?
> 
> Hunter’s Lodge has a very special place in my heart. The very first Fable 3 fanfic I ever read had used Hunter’s Lodge in a way that _really_ warmed my heart. The fanfic is [A Bargain for Love by simplisticmuse](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7310016/1/A-Bargain-For-Love) and it’s a Princess x Reaver story—and I don’t wanna spoil anything but anyways, it mostly influenced my story concerning Logan. It was just a small scene but I’ve remembered it all these years and now I’ve written my own fic. So it was only fitting that the story starts in my favorite house in Fable 3.
> 
> To briefly explain my princess character, Scarlet, and give you more backstory on this fic: I’ve always decided to adopt as soon as I discovered the orphanage, and place my child and nanny at the Lodge. I just reused my decision here since I noticed the lack of fics with an adopted kid. But the nanny-becoming-best-friends-with-the-princess thing just came during this latest replay. It was the perfect set-up for what I’ve planned for Nick.
> 
> Also, if you’ll notice, I decided to go with a male Sparrow as the royal siblings’ parent. While I appreciate the fics with Logan having a Hero for a mother, it’s time to tip the scales a bit and give a Hero dad for him. There’s a different kind of drama when a son tries to live up to the shadow of his great father, after all. And fails and gets replaced by his _sister_? Ohohoho. :D 
> 
> The thing with the chamomile is purely online research and author-handwaving. I don’t actually have real-life experience with using the flower for cuts, so if you do, feel free to advise me on the matter. _Do not try to follow what Nick did unless someone in real life actually guaranteed its safety. You can use tea bags, as far as I know, though._
> 
> And also… LOOK GUYS I REALLY FUCKING HATE THAT FABLE 3 _CHEAPENED_ LOGAN’S ROLE. I mean, I love the game—I really do. For all its easiness in combat and its annoying bugs, it was the very first Fable game I’ve ever managed to complete and for that, it will always have a nostalgic memory for me. But now that I’m older and more critical of narratives in video games, I realized that Lionhead Studios actually deprived us of a lot of things in the story that could’ve made us feel closer to the characters. Logan was the first villain of the game—but he was also the main character’s older brother and _only sibling_. You’re supposed to feel a kinship towards him, even _after_ he turns cruel and ruthless. That should’ve been the main drama of Fable 3. The first game motivated you to search for your sister and the second made you want to avenge your sister. But now that your sibling is male, the game made you want… to bring him down just because he forced you to sacrifice someone??? I know you go and stop Logan because it’s the right thing to do, but alongside that, you should be feeling like you need to save _him_ , too. After all, _have you not been living your entire life with Logan??? Have you not grown up with him???_ I’m pretty sure Sparrow wouldn’t have wanted their children—no matter what their age gap may be—to not be close to each other. Family values would’ve been such an important thing for Sparrow _because_ of what happened in Fable 2. 
> 
> But no. Fable 3 hardly gave us any backstory on Logan and his relationship with his younger sibling, and I believe that’s why Fable 3 was a flop to the Fable fans. In the first and second game, we had short playable childhood arcs that really established the sibling relationship well and properly defined our goals for the games. But in Fable 3, you’re just expected to acknowledge this hated stranger to be blood-related to you. _And then halfway through the game, you’re suddenly told that Logan wasn’t always evil???_ WELL SHIT LIONHEAD STUDIOS MAYBE I WOULD’VE BEEN INVESTED IN THE STORY MORE IF YOU TOLD US THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE. CAN YOU IMAGINE??? DECIDING TO LEAD A REVOLUTION BECAUSE??? YOU WANTED TO SAVE YOUR BROTHER FROM DOING MORE EVIL??? BECAUSE YOU ACTUALLY LOVE HIM?????
> 
> Honestly, the only few reasons I keep sparing Logan’s life is because of the morality thing, because I don’t want to end up like him, and because I thought back then that he would get a bigger role in the story and have more screentime and generally START INTERACTING WITH HIS ONLY SIBLING.
> 
> God, the biggest wasted opportunity and failed writing in the history of Fable.
> 
>  _This_ is why I really wrote this fic. Stay tuned for more, folks. It will be slow but I’m determined to save Logan through the power of fanfiction. Pray for my soul, because it has an OC as a main character and it’s for a barely-alive fandom. Pray for me, everyone.


End file.
